My Valentine
St. Thomas, USVI
Valentine’s Day, 2007
In paradise, but not in private. I yearn to write, but don’t have space or comfort in this condo.
Once a multi-tasker with superb concentration skills, I now have motherhood-induced attention--deficit disorder. Like coarse sandpaper, the constant interruptions and noise around me have rubbed my nerves raw. I love being here with my kids, but after 5 days, even the click of my watch sounds like a snare drum. The squirt of Julie’s hair mousse, the shake and crunch of multi-colored fish snacks. It all brings out the shark in me. Plus, Olivia loves salt and sugar. It’s a huge challenge to feed her. At home, she turns any game or idea into a special event by including a snack stand. But today IS a special event. It’s Valentine’s Day. She’s been lobbying for the pool since dawn. During her breakfast of Lucky Charms, she wrote a list of snacks to pack for the day. I guess she couldn’t resist the brand new Pepperidge Farm bag. But didn’t she just finish her chocolate bunny, too? I’m no fan of sweets, but my husband is a candy addict. As if he needed an excuse like Valentine’s Day.
Before I completely abandon my hope of writing, I sneak out to the balcony. It overlooks Nazareth Bay, my favorite destination. I shield my eyes from the blinding reflection of the mid-morning sun. Boats glisten in the harbor. Beckoning. Laughing with the mischief they create. I can’t even kayak without losing my lunch.
I log into my laptop and type my password: 1roomofMYown. But the sun’s glare clouds the screen. I’m running out of patience. I just want to write! Like red ants, irritation crawls up my skin. My blood pressure pumps like a bass drum, joining the hum and whine of the bedroom air- conditioner. Before my head explodes, I grab the roots of my hair and rub my temples. I sit back. I take a gulp of fresh air, trying to ignore the sweat now sticking to my orange beach dress.
My therapist told me I need to practice deep breathing at moments like this. Inhale 6 counts, exhale 6 counts. The wind cools me. Inhale 4 counts. Hold. Exhale. I notice the palm trees gently swaying like lovers dancing to a soothing lullaby. A gigantic iguana captures my gaze as he saunters across the sand to join his friends napping above. I spot an empty table in the covered restaurant on the beach.
Before I can zip my yellow canvas back-pack and dash away, I hear annoyed voices through the glass sliding doors. I sigh. I know what’s coming. The rigid, vertical blinds flap against the glass to announce her debut.
I notice my watch click, clicking. Still on NJ (winter) time. I pause to change it. When we arrived, I remember wishing there was a way to stop time. But the only way is to live in the present. That means noticing with all of one’s senses. Most of the time, this is when life stands still.
Mommy! Do you want a raspberry ice pop?
She offers it to me in her outstretched left hand. Hers is melting down her right arm. Her mouth’s already sticky and stained red. It looks like she’s wearing lipstick. I can’t tear my eyes away from her glamour girl smile and her aquamarine bikini. Her mirrored fashionista sunglasses sit atop her curly, poofed, wet hair. Like a newly caught fish on a boat’s deck, she flip-flops again and again to find her perfect lounging position overlooking the surreal green-blue sea.
What’s in her mind? What does she understand at age 7? Does it matter? Has she finally found the “moment” in her eagerness to get to the pool as soon as she finished lucky charms and her raspberry ice-pop and valentine’s chocolate? Maybe I ought to start popping my sweet tarts.
Olivia pipes up “does anyone want to relax with me? I have an extra lounge chair…”
I close my laptop and join her in paradise.